When Writers Don't Have a Clue

 by Charlotte Hinger

I was intrigued with Thomas's discussion of viewpoints. My Lottie Albright delves into old murders which causes new murders. It's not really a cold case series, as it focuses on the present day murder. Thus it technically morphs into a suspense. Will my historian/undersheriff figure out who did it back then in time to prevent becoming the victim on the next page?

In some ways, a straight cold case would be easier to present because the Lottie Albright series is told in present day first person. I can't use flashbacks and have to depend on the back story emerging through historical investigation techniques.

My most dependable tool has always been microfilmed newspapers. The Kansas State Historical Society was founded in 1875. They have one of the world's most comprehensive collection of newspapers. All the papers are on microfilm and many are on-line through Chronicling America http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/newspapers/#Kansas. Instructions for obtaining microfilmed Kansas papers can be found at http://www.kshs.org/p/newspapers-in-kansas/11528.

Since Lottie doesn't have access to the villain's mind the plot depends on her ability to connect the dots. Nothing is more valuable in both academic investigation and mystery plotting than knowing something is just not quite right. In other words, reading between the lines. Because usually newspaper items are objective.

Here's an example of what I mean by not quite right. An announcement in the 1950s local news item: "Lonnie Balfour and family will be moving to the Balfour homestead later this month. He will take over the extensive farming operation of his late father." Lottie thinks that's funny. Lonnie was a CPA and the second son. The oldest son, Jeff, was the obvious heir. He was a farmer. Was there tension over this? This leads her to the recorded deed and even more newspapers and death certificates. Aha! Lonnie died in a mysterious accident. His descendants are alive today. And so it goes. Diaries, letters, voting records, notes from organizations, and yearbooks have their own testimony.

Was one child consistently on the honor role and in every activity under the sun? And another in the same family barely mentioned in the high school newspaper or not a participate in any groups according to the yearbook? Why? With persistence, it easy to find this out.

It's easy to really keep the plot hopping through the protagonist's questions as long as the writer resists the temptation to inject a massive dose of history and cultural details. For instance, old newspapers show group pictures of students at events. The debate team is especially well-groomed, except for one member. Why was there no one looking out for this kid? Had his parents ever come to one of his debates?\

This series is written in first person. My historical novels are always limited omnicience and shifting third person. In a future post I'll try to explain all the pitfalls of limited omnicience and why I just jump right in anyway.

Being able to enter the mind of the first person protagonist is quite a lot of fun, because one can make this amazing sleuth really smart, not at all like the bumbling novelist who hasn't got a clue.

The Purge

 One of my writer fantasies was the world honoring my life and publishing accomplishments with the Mario Acevedo museum, a must-visit shrine for every wannabe scribe looking for encouragement and inspiration. Here are Mario's desk, laptop, printer. Here are his journals. His coffee cups where he kept his pens and paperclips. His pocket knife. His stacks of reference materials. My wish would be of people culling through my archives, searching for unfinished stories and manuscript drafts that would point to even bigger story ideas and insights into me as a writer sage.

Kevin J. Anderson, who took on the Dune series, told of digging through boxes and discarded files tucked away in Frank Herbert's home to discover, YES! notes and sketches about characters and narratives that helped steer the Dune legacy. This is what I wanted from posterity. Not so much, really.

Harboring my dream was the big reason why I hung onto my research files, background material for novels that ultimately went nowhere. Part of the process in your journey as a writer. At the time, I fancied myself stepping into the shoes of Jack Higgins or Alistair MacLean, hoping that my World War Two pot boilers--Torpedoes Los! (A Nazi U-boat at Pearl Harbor comes close to changing the fate of the war) Midnight in Morocco (An American mercenary spoils Nazi plans in North Africa) The Last Warlord (The same mercenary causes more mischief in China)--would get me rich and famous. But God had other plans.

These papers come from my research pre-Internet when you had to write and mail letters requesting info. The US Navy, National Geographic, Boeing, and the British archives at Flypast were more than generous. I got photos, maps, schematics, reprints, unit histories, all for free. 

As I'm getting older, with the days forward considerably shorter than the days behind me, it's time to start downsizing and decluttering. Purge. Besides these documents, I'm also pitching old manuscripts marked up by my critique group. Farewell, fond memories.

Back on Track

Frankie here. I'm late today because I'm traveling with a couple of friends. We spent two days in Baltimore and saw the Orioles play. Now, we are in Delaware. 

I have to admit that was the first and only live baseball game I had ever seen. In fact, it was the only entire baseball game I have ever seen. But in my Lizzie Stuart series, Lizzie's partner John Quinn (a former military police officer and homicide cop) is a baseball fan. Because of that I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to see a real baseball game. The friend who is a baseball nerd explained the rules to the other two of us. 

I know it was me because the fans in the stadium were jumping to their feet to cheer the Orioles on every few minutes. But since I was neutral about who won, I couldn't get too excited -- at least not about the game. As we writers are prone to do in any situation, I watched and listened to the people around me. And by the time the game ended -- as I was walking out surrounded by people -- I had an idea for a short story. I'd had to check my shoulder bag in, store it in a locker because it was larger than the size allowed, so I had hurried out as the game was ending to retrieve it. That gave me even more time to look and listen. 

I also had time to do some initial Baltimore research for the 1939 historical novel that I'm working on. In fact, the more I work on my thriller, the more I'm inclined to think of writing a nonfiction book about crime and violence in America that year. That would be a way of making use of the research that I can't weave into my novel. 

I need to make another trip to Baltimore after I have contacted the reference librarian at the museum I want to visit. While I'm here in Delaware I want to get some work done. There is also a museum I'd like to visit if I have a chance. 

I'm feeling that I'm back on track because I have a new laptop. I bought it on Tuesday because I had managed to destroy the laptop that I'd had only for two or three years. First, I nodded off when I was sitting on the sofa working late one evening. I woke up as my laptop was falling from my lap. I broke the hinge on one side of the monitor when I grabbed it. My computer guy repaired it when I finally had the monitor dangling by a wire. But then I somehow lost a brace on the side, and it went dead when I couldn't make the charger fit tightly in the hole provided. 

At the same time, I was having a problem with my desktop at the office. ITS had discovered my computer was 6 years old and out of warranty. I was told to get a new computer ASAP. Our staff did that, but then we had a problem transferring the files over and needed help from ITS uptown.

Before I left, we got the desktop back up and running. Then I couldn't get the software to work. . .but now I hope that I am finally back on track. Cross your fingers for me.

 

Creative Procrastination

 by Charlotte Hinger

My all-time favorite way to avoid the onerous task of writing a novel used to be through excessive research. I really knew how to milk that one. But I was saved by a scoldy part of my brain that monitors such nonsense. The rescue was quite simple. I forced myself to write a quota of pages every day. Five pages a day, five days a week. 

After producing the five pages, I allowed myself to research until the cows came home. It worked beautifully. Especially before the internet became my prime source of information.

 Now I've fallen prey again to my relentless curiosity. I have an instant attention span. I'm hooked immediately by obscure bits of useless information. When I watch TV, I frequently pause the program to look up tid-bits. 

For instance, the other night I watched an old movie about Mary Queen of Scots. Did she and Queen Elizabeth ever meet, I wondered. The answer was yes, Safari informed me. Frequently in movies and even in one of my favorite operas, but in real life, never. Was her second husband, Lord Darnley really that bad? Yes. He was a real mess. Did she really marry Bothwell? Yes. But historians don't know why. Not for sure. 

All of this carrying on interrupted my TV watching. It didn't matter. In fact, learning more about the background of this period in history increased my pleasure. 

However, excessive interruptions are deadly to the creative process of writing a novel. For this reason, I've switched to longhand for the first draft. Through the years, I've learned more about the craft. I'm convinced it's very important to get the story down on paper as quickly as possible in accordance with the writer's natural bent. Some of us are simply slower than others. I am not a fast writer, but writing in long hand does away with accessing the internet or responding to email. 

What's more, longhand stops me from "improving" a chapter into infinity. Through longhand, I have to get on with the story. Editing kicks in when I transfer the pages to the computer. 

But much to my dismay, I've acquired a new way to procrastinate. I tend to become overinvolved with other activities. Committees, meetings, etc. Some of this was accidental when I was too stupid to realize the work involved, but on other occasions I take too much on through an over-developed sense of duty. That condition evolved from growing up in a very small town where everyone had to pitch in or a community wouldn't hang together. 

I say yes when I shouldn't. But after giving the situation some thought, I've decided to go back to a set time. All I have to do is say, "I can't between 8-12 in the morning. That's when I work." That's a simple declaration that will force me to man up to writing difficult scenes and tackle plot problems. 

Worse, I'm very clever at finding ways to escape when I'm not sure where a book is headed. Who wouldn't want to run away?

How Long?

 by Charlotte Hinger

Wonder of all wonders. I'm very close to getting a historical novel published that I wrote in the '90s. This book is very dear to my heart, and I've never given up on it. I'm not saying anything about the publisher yet. Book deals can fall through at the very last minute. In fact, that happened a couple of years ago. I've learned never to really count on it until the contract is signed by both parties. 

Ironically, this historical novel "came close" to being published twice before. In the first instance, the editor moved to another house and his replacement didn't like it. The second time, the editor was severely injured in a car accident and by the time she had fully recovered, the press had abandoned publication of historical novels. 

When and if this is a done deal, with contract in hand, I'll say a lot more. 

My agent once emphasized the importance of building a body of work. When you finally connect, a publisher is often interested in other manuscripts.

Soldiering on is hard in the face of rejection. Especially for beginners who doubt their talent. The biggest determiner of whether or not one should continue writing is whether or not one likes the process. I really like to write most of the time. Unlike Frankie, I used to be a first draft junkie. Now, I like the rewriting and revision process.

 I have one more historical novel on the shelf and am positive it will find a home someday. 

My first novel required a tremendous amount of research. The other two historicals did too. All of my mysteries have a strong historical thingy that is causing murders in the present. I love concocting tangled plots. 

Getting the historical novel published (finally!) is a surprise. I'm distressed when people say "it's not what you know, it's who you know." That is seldom the case in publishing. Especially with the large New York houses. They want to make money. Sales potential is crucial. However, I'm convinced there is an element of luck involved. It's a matter of stumbling across the right editor at the right house at the right time. The sale of this book proves that. 

Getting published also requires an incredible amount of persistence. Plus guts. My friend Michael Gear once commented that often "those who have the talent don't have the courage, and those who have the courage don't have the talent." 

There's no question who will get published. It's the ones who submit their manuscripts!

Really Good Liars

 by Charlotte Hinger

I once enjoyed watching a TV show called Lie to Me. It wasn't violent and the concept was fascinating if for no other reason that mystery writers are obsessed with investigation techniques. It featured a forensic psychologist who specialized in identifying people who are telling lies.

Some of the most amusing scenes in the show were when he was explaining some points to his colleagues and there were flashes of famous people in the news expressing similar emotions. Lying, cheating, dissembling, or just messing around with truthiness in general.

Will anyone ever forget Clinton shaking his finger and saying "I did not have sex with that woman?" Or Bush's famous declaration, "Mission Accomplished."

I'm always surprised at how easily some people lie. At a writer's conference years ago, I listened to an agent on a panel who was a first class liar. I knew this for a fact because he had just fleeced a friend of mine. But he was really, really good at convincing people that he was highly ethical, brilliantly connected in the publishing world and one swell person to have on their side. Oh, right.

When it comes to our own friends and family, it's amazing how often we simply know when something is amiss. A look in their eye. A smile that's forced. A too cheerful front.

Email and the internet makes it hard to conceal anything. I'm amazed at the emails that some politicians send. They are nailed for exchanges sent years ago and then deny having sent it in the first place.

Privacy of any kind no longer exists. Period. I look up a lot of stuff on the internet. I'm especially curious about conditions and diseases I need for concocting plots. Sure enough, I'm then quickly bombarded with solutions for a problem that the God of the Internet assumes I have. Sorry, Internet. I was just kidding.

It makes me a little nervous to look up guns and information about poisons when I'm considering plots. What if the FBI or whoever decides to investigate me? What if I look like a liar when I'm questioned?

I imagine I would look guilty whatever they asked.

All the information about body language makes it hard for mystery writer to fool our readers. It's hard enough to plant really clever red herrings. Nevertheless, since I like psychological suspense, I'm delighted when an author spins a really good tale. 

That's what we writers basically are, you know. Really good liars.

Figuring It Out

by Charlotte Hinger

The intrepid Lottie Albright delves into old murders which causes new murders. It's not really a cold case series, as it focuses on the present-day murder. Thus it technically morphs into a suspense. Will my historian/undersheriff figure out who did it back then in time to prevent becoming the victim on the next page?

In some ways, a straight cold case would be easier to present because the Lottie Albright series is told in present day first person. I can't use flashbacks and have to depend on the back story emerging through historical investigation techniques.

My most dependable tool has always been microfilmed newspapers. The Kansas State Historical Society was founded in 1875. They have one of the world's most comprehensive collection of newspapers. All the papers are on microfilm and many are on-line through Chronicling America http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/newspapers/#Kansas. Instructions for obtaining microfilmed Kansas papers can be found at http://www.kshs.org/p/newspapers-in-kansas/11528.

Since Lottie doesn't have access to the villain's mind the plot depends on her ability to connect the dots. Nothing is more valuable in both academic investigation and mystery plotting than knowing something is just not quite right. In other words, reading between the lines. Because usually newspaper items are objective.

Here's an example of what I mean by not quite right. An announcement in the 1950s local news item: "Lonnie Balfour and family will be moving to the Balfour homestead later this month. He will take over the extensive farming operation of his late father." Lottie thinks that's funny. Lonnie was a CPA and the second son. The oldest son, Jeff, was the obvious heir. He was a farmer. Was there tension over this? This leads her to the recorded deed and even more newspapers and death certificates. Aha! Lonnie died in a mysterious accident. His descendants are alive today. And so it goes. Diaries, letters, voting records, notes from organizations, and yearbooks have their own testimony.

Was one child consistently on the honor role and in every activity under the sun? And another in the same family barely mentioned in the high school newspaper or not a participate in any groups according to the yearbook? Why? With persistence, it easy to find this out.

It's easy to really keep the plot hopping through the protagonist's questions as long as the writer resists the temptation to inject a massive dose of history and cultural details. For instance, old newspapers show group pictures of students at events. The debate team is especially well-groomed, except for one member. Why was there no one looking out for this kid? Had his parents ever come to one of his debates?

Being able to enter the mind of the first person protagonist is quite a lot of fun, because one can make this amazing sleuth really smart, not at all like the bumbling novelist who hasn't got a clue.

Out of Season

 

I have this silly morning glory plant that thinks it's a perennial. It's not. It's an annual. It thinks it's purple, too, instead of the usual bright blue. But there it is. Against all reason and the laws of nature. I'm amazed and I love this tenacious little rebel.  

This glorious little flower and Barbara's post put in mind of writing out of season and under trying circumstances. I have no idea how I managed to write when I had little children and a truck-driving husband who was gone a lot. After Don bought the truckline, everything was easier. Our joke was that after we were married twenty years we decided to try living together. 

Becoming a writer requires a great deal of tenacity. I think that's why I developed a quota system: five pages a day, five days a week. As I grew more successful the challenges of raising kids were replaced by the reality of 21st century marketing demands. There is always something that threatens to sabotage my writing. Email is simultaneously a blessing and a curse. 

Looking back, I don't know how I survived without Google. It's a pleasure to find quick answers to research questions. I used to rely on interlibrary loan. It involved lengthy delays and when a precious book arrived I would get suckered in to reading the whole thing. I read a whole book on fitting horse collars just to get one paragraph right for Come Spring.  

My microfilm collection is extensive. I use it to write academic stuff. I even have my own microfilm reader. It's not a printer, so I have to take some reels to our university library to print out hard copy. 

One of the biggest traps of becoming serious about writing is insisting on writing under ideal conditions. It simply has never happened for me. I would love to say I always write in the same place, at the same time every day, but in fact the only thing that's stable is my output.

For me, the quota system works for first drafts. Barbara and I both do a first draft in longhand. When I transfer this to the computer, the requirements are different. I type in a chapter a day, try to incorporate my notes, and straighten out plot issues. 

I have a peculiar method of outlining after I've written a chapter in longhand. I type a summary of the chapter with the setting at the top, the page span, and most important, the chain of events.

Ah, that chain of events. If nothing is actually happening in this summary, nothing is happening in the novel. It's deadly dull.  

This outline is printed on pink paper. Pink for promise. I tack each chapter on a cork strip. The pages are then replaced with yellow ones, because the light is beginning to dawn and I try to fix the mess. When these pages are replaced with blue ones, it means I'm going after language. This manuscript is now true blue. As good as I can do. 

Like my little morning glory it's my own way of doing things. Despite all logic or reasoning. 

Reaching the end

This is the height of the summer, and up here in Eastern Canada, we've been enduring an unprecedented, prolonged heat wave. What is it with 2020 anyway? Being an arctic species, we Canadians fall into a stupor once the temperature soars above 30 degrees C. Usually this is accompanied by enough humidity that you can wring out your hair after a five-minute walk.

I've been writing the first draft of my next Inspector Green novel in fits and starts for months. Humming along nicely in February and slammed to a halt in March by the pandemic. Spent two months obsessively reading news, checking numbers, sewing masks, and listening to our PM's daily briefings. Picked the novel up again in May when I found I could concentrate enough to write a coherent paragraph. And then in June to July, turned to a sloth by the heat. BUT... Drumroll...

This afternoon I finally wrote THE END on the final page of the first draft of Green #11. It weighs in at 89,050 words and 352 pages. That will no doubt change, with the paring down of blubbery prose and the fleshing out of characters and subplots I didn't know I needed. There is much work to be done yet, but at least I now know it's a book, which is a tremendous relief. It is a story with a beginning, middle, and end. There are characters who can be tweaked but who know what their job is. And it now has a title that may stick around! THE DEVIL TO PAY.

One of the challenges I face in the rewrites is that because of the pandemic, I wasn't able to do much of the research I planned to do or discovered I needed as the book went along. So I had to rely on Mr. Google or make stuff up. I made a lot of stuff up, like the procedures the Ontario Provincial Police uses when investigating a homicide, or the protocols followed for bail hearing in the Ottawa courthouse. I want to avoid being contacted by an astute lawyer reader who says "That's not how it's done at all." I'd like to talk to the OPP, I want to visit the courthouse, but neither are feasible right now. I also don't know how protocols will have changed by the fall of 2021 when this book hits the shelves. Will there still be masks and physical distancing, or will we all be rejoicing in our post-vaccine freedom?

So for now I will research what I can, contact my police friends and other experts to answer the questions that have cropped up, and make a note of what will have to wait until the book is in the final editorial phase with the publisher (like the vaccine info). I may also have to live with some of the stuff I made up. It is fiction, after all.

So I have printed the draft out, and as of tomorrow, I turn from THE END of Draft One to Chapter One, Draft Two. And begin to tear the whole thing apart, with the file of notes and questions compiled during first draft at my elbow. But for now, I'm going to pour a glass of wine. And do a little jig. (Photo not provided).

Places Remembered

I've been thinking about setting -- particularly in the wake of the fire at Notre Dame. I was in Paris for the second time a few years ago. That time around I was traveling with my aunt and we were visiting her son and his family. We traveled from the house they had bought in Normandy to Paris. At the time I was looking ahead, scouting out the setting for a future book in my Lizzie Stuart series. I was already planning to send Lizzie and John Quinn to France on their honeymoon.

Lizzie, my history nerd, would walk through Paris with guidebook in hand. How could she not have gone to Notre Dame? Undoubtedly a scene would have happened there. Maybe she would have seen someone or heard something. Maybe had a glimpse of another character I already know will appear in that book.

That book isn't the next in the series, but the one after. I've been debating France, but it is the destination I've always had in mind if Lizzie and Quinn make it to the altar. I've also recently considered Ireland because of Quinn's family ties. But if they should go to Paris, I need to make a choice. The series is in the recent past. The honeymoon would happen during the first week of January 2005. So what about Notre Dame?  How does one handle a setting that has changed in an event that was deeply emotional for many people?

This gets to the larger question of recovering the past. As my fellow Type-Mers have discussed, setting is important. I, too, spend time in the field, exploring the places where my books and short stories are set. It is disconcerting to discover how much real-life settings change. This is less of an issue writing in the recent past or near future. Enough is there to have a sense of how it once looked or will look in an imagined future. But when the setting has only a marker and the surrounding area has changed, one is left only with photos.

I need to go to the site of the 1939 New York World's Fair. Knowing how little remains from the fair, I haven't rushed to make the pilgrimage. But I will eventually. Standing there, with map and photo book, I hope I will be able to get the "lay of the land".

And if  Lizzie goes to Notre Dame in 2005, I'll need to figure out how to treat the tragedy of the fire with respect while being true to what she would have seen and commented on.

For the sake of art

My current novel in progress has plunged me deep into unfamiliar territory. Literally. The prairies and badlands of Southern Alberta. I'm an eastern city girl born and raised in Montreal and living most my adult life in Ottawa. I spent childhood summers in the Quebec's Eastern Townships (Three Pines territory) and my recent summers at my lakeside cottage in rural eastern Ontario. I did suffer through a couple of years of grad school in Toronto, but that was before the city got interesting. I travel extensively, and have made a point of trying to go to the far corners of the earth, but that's different from knowing the soul of a place.

I wrote ten detective novels set in Ottawa, which I knew inside out, before deciding I wanted to explore farther afield. My choice of setting for my new Amanda Doucette series was very deliberate; I wanted to take the series across Canada and showcase the breadth and diversity of my magnificently complex country. Geographically, we go from craggy coastlines to vast inland lakes and forests to prairies and Rocky Mountains before reaching the Pacific. We go from the crowded, clamorous cities of southern Ontario to the windswept Arctic tundra of Nunavut. I wanted to bring readers along with me to visit all that.

It turns out to be a tall order. My novels are always deeply grounded in setting, which I try to capture vividly enough so the reader can see and feel it. Part of setting is the people, how they dress and talk, what they think and what they care about. I make a point of visiting the places and trying to do all the things Amanda would. Hence the winter camping in Quebec for The Trickster's Lullaby and the kayaking trip to Georgian Bay for Prisoners of Hope. Each book has given me lots of adventures, big and small, and it's been great fun as well as enlightening.

But in going west, I am starting to go farther from my roots and from the experiences that fashioned me. The Ancient Dead is set in Alberta, geographically and culturally a very different place. I have visited several times, most recently this past fall when I was specifically researching this book and trying to visit the exact locations and do the exact things Amanda would be doing. Now that I am back home writing the book, however, a thousand small questions keep cropping up. What time of the summer is the alfalfa crop harvested? What does the ICU at Foothills Medical Centre look like? How far north does the prairie rattlesnake extend? And what kind of curses would a farmer use? Writing each scene, I am either stopping to research the answers or putting in multiple question marks for a later time.

I do all this in the interests of authenticity, trust, and respect. Alberta readers will know if I get the alfalfa crop wrong. Calgarians will know I never set foot in the hospital there. Just as I hate it when cavalier writers get my home wrong, I don't want them turfing the book out because of a wrong note. If I have the audacity to venture into a place I don't know too well, I owe it to people to try my best to learn about it. As well, if readers know I got the small stuff wrong, how will they trust the truth of the bigger picture? Regional slang is particularly tricky. I've decided it's better not to use it than to use it wrong.

How on earth did we writers cope before the Internet? I wrote many books and short stories before the Internet was as rich and accessible as it is now, and I recall dragging home stacks of books from the library, making phone calls, and poring over maps and newspapers. I also remember just making stuff up. But the internet has put an extraordinary amount of detailed knowledge at our fingertips, and with that access has come an additional burden to try to get things right.

Bu the internet has its limits, especially when it comes to getting a feel for the culture. Reading local newspapers, biographical accounts, and blogs helps, but in the end I still have to make that extraordinary leap into my characters' heads and hope that, regardless of whether they grew up on the streets of Ottawa or on a ranch in Newell County, human concerns and desires – the stuff of crime fiction – are universal.

In praise of authenticity

I am sitting in a hotel room near the Calgary airport, waiting for my flight home to Ottawa in the morning. It's the last day of my two-week Alberta research trip, and as they say, "the best laid plans..." I had intended to spend most of the day at the Calgary Public Library, doing some last minute digging into topics that came up on my road trip, but Calgary has been hit by an unseasonal record snowfall and the roads are nearly impassible. Plus I have no winter boots to manage the snow on the ground, which is currently about ten inches but still falling.

So the library research is not to be. The joys of being a writer.

A couple of recent posts have alluded to the need for greater authenticity in modern crime writing. I have always been a fan of realism. At the core, of course, our stories are made up. Murders that didn't happen, characters that don't exist... But the trick, at least in my type of writing, is to take the reader on a trip that feels real, that has enough touchstones in their real experience that they can believe they are immersed in something that could happen to them. So although I create fictional characters, they are often amalgams of people I know, with traits and background experiences that can ring true. I borrow from friends, colleagues, and family shamelessly, although I always hope the resulting fiction is unrecognizable.

I believe the greatest authenticity has to be in the realm of character. Writers can develop entire fictional towns or indeed universes, with geography and climate that is utterly unfamiliar. But if the character doesn't seem real or relatable, if the writer hasn't fashioned him to be at once complex and yet consistent with what he's been through, if he doesn't do things that follow from who he is, then readers will just bail on the story. That's why I work so hard to ground my characters in the place that has fashioned them. That's one of the reasons I always try to visit and absorb the settings I write about. The flat, empty prairie fields are indeed different from the teeming streets of Toronto. The wide-open, sparsely travelled rural highways of Alberta are an entirely different experience than the white-knuckle kamikaze trips along Canada's busiest highway, the 401. The pace of life is slower and more peaceful, the chance to reflect and enjoy is far greater.

As a writer, I need to feel those differences to help create the characters. And then of course, there is the landscape itself. It becomes a character that I hope will seduce readers and take them on a journey far from home. Canada is a country of extraordinary diversity in geography as well as culture and history, and I want readers to experience that as vividly as I did. Neither photos nor my imagination could never do justice to the vivid textures of the reality, from the weathered grey of the abandoned homesteads to the rich gold of the wheat fields and the Mars-like hills and hoodoos of the badlands. I only hope the words I ultimately find will do them justice.

So authenticity is not just about avoiding the errors that yank readers out of the story or cause them to roll their eyes in protest. It's about drawing the reader deeper into a rich and believable story that will keep them nodding their heads as if they were right there at the character's' side.

That said, I don't plan to put this record snow storm into my next Amanda Doucette book about the Alberta badlands. In THE ANCIENT DEAD, it will be hot and sunny, with the brilliant, open blue sky for which the province is famous. But who knows? It's nice to know that Alberta's weather is unpredictable enough that if I need a snowfall– to hide a body or impede a rescue, say– I can put it in.

Not There Research . . . and a Question

I've been following the discussion about research and setting, and it reminded me once again of the dilemma I've created for myself. I use real places, but because of my slowly-developing series arcs and my reluctance to write in a "present" that can change in a moment, I can't physically be in the places I write about at the time of the story.

When I write about Gallagher, Virginia, my fictional stand-in for my hometown, Danville, Virginia, I can go home to Danville and walk through history. As in this photo of the courthouse. The statue is of Mayor Harry Wooding, who was a young officer in the Civil War and served as mayor for over 40 years.

But then there's the matter of  Danville/Gallagher in 2004. I have no memories of the city or the state during that era because I lived in Albany, New York. I made occasional visits home, but I don't have the same sensory memories that I have of the years when I lived in Virginia. When I write a Lizzie Stuart book, I need to rely on newspaper accounts of the city to provide the chronicle of changes and fill in the empty spaces based on what I know and remember.

The books set in Albany in the near-future are a different matter. I can see what exists now, and I need to walk into an imagined future. I imagined what Central Avenue would look like if the traffic pattern changed. I imagined a building downtown with a vertical garden and an attached restaurant.

Now, I'm imagining what urban explorers would find inside a deserted building. Sometimes, I'm ahead of the curve. I gave Albany a convention center because it was being discussed. Now, there is one. Not my convention center because my Albany exists in a fictional, parallel universe. But it's a little creepy -- if I conjure it, will it come?

I have another unrelated question. Tomorrow, the Mavens of Mayhem (our Sisters in Crime chapter) will host our first, "annual" Murderous March afternoon event at a public library (East Greenbush). I think we know why writers attend such events even if they aren't on panels. I've been thinking about readers. What brings readers in, even when the weather outside has a hint of spring, and there are other competing events?  Thoughts?

A tale of two stories

Vicki's post about the importance of getting the setting correct got me thinking. I have always been a big believer in walking in the footsteps of my characters, so I could infuse the story with the real-life and often unexpected sights, smells, and sounds that they would experience. As Vicki says, not only does it add realism to the story but it helps to draw the reader into the magic. My Inspector Green novels are set in Ottawa, a city I know well after nearly fifty years here, and yet I always visit the specific locations I put in the novels to make sure I'd captured all the detail. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), this usually entailed a half-hour car ride.

Not so my Amanda Doucette books, all of which are set in different locales far from my home. Newfoundland, Quebec's Laurentians, and Georgian Bay. At least these could be reached by car, so I could throw my bags, my notepads, and my dogs into the car and set off to follow my imagination. The Newfoundland drive took three days, but it was entertaining.

But the next two in the series are planned even farther from home, necessitating a plane ride, a car rental, and a kennel for my poor pups. I can only afford to make one trip there, so I have to make the most of it. Ideally I would like to visit while I'm still at the "glimmer of an idea" stage, knowing the place itself will give me unexpected and unique fodder for my imagination and for the story I create. But if that trip gives me the idea, I won't know all the details I don't know I need until I am deep in the writing of the story. Normally that's when I would make another trip, but this time I will have to rely on books, the internet, and helpful friends and contacts. It's not the same as walking in the footsteps of the characters, but it will have to do.

Visiting the location gives you so much more than the smells, sounds, and sights of the place. It gives you the culture, the people, and the way they see the world. It gives you a glimpse of what moves them, angers, excites, and saddens them. It give you an idea what they celebrate. All this molds that "glimmer of an idea" into a story and enriches its development.

I am currently working on the third in my Rapid Reads Cedric O'Toole series for emerging, reluctant, or just plain busy readers. It's in an imaginary village, its setting left deliberately vague in the books. There is a wonderful freedom to writing about an imaginary place. I don't have to check police procedure or Tim Hortons locations. I can rearrange geography without anyone calling me out. I put farms and roads and lakes wherever I want.

Despite this, the setting is very clear in my mind, because I use the area of Eastern Ontario where my summer cottage is located. All the sights, smells, and sounds are vivid to me, as are the culture, the people, and the issues they care about. I think this is the key to inventing a place; use a real-life place (or two) as your blueprint, and the vivid detail will help to draw your readers in. And then put the churches and lakes and bars wherever you want. Just remember where you put them, for the next book.

The horror of it all

Barbara here. Reading the last few posts has left me with a cascade of mostly disjointed thoughts, which I will try to pull together to make some sort of useful point. Rick wonders about the predominance of "negative" characters in crime fiction and Aline was pleased to discover that despite their very negative public image, most politicians are actually committed, hard-working people whose efforts deserve respect (in the UK, at least).

Negativity is everywhere. Social media feeds on it. Facebook is full of posts about personal tragedies and links to horror stories reported elsewhere. In their quest for market share in our distracted and inattentive world, the news media have become increasingly sensationalist in their "if it bleeds it leads" mantra. We can rail against this trend all we like, but we can't fight human nature. People will walk past a world-renowned violinist playing exquisite music in a subway station, but will stop to gawk in fascination at a traffic accident. Negativity sells. There is nothing new or profound in this observation. Philosophers have been probing this question of morbid curiosity since the dawn of time, and more recently, psychologists have been putting the seemingly universal, very human impulse under a microscope in the lab.

Theories abound. Some argue witnessing someone else's moment of terror or tragedy is a kind of dry run for facing future terrors of our own. It helps us prepare and feel more confident; like little children playing superhero, we vanquish the scary monsters lurking in the shadows of our minds. Others believe seeing someone else suffer brings a feeling of relief that at least it's not us; "there but for the grace of god do I." Still a third school of thought has it that suffering is the yang to joy's ying; both heighten the feeling of being alive. And yet another theory is that we are driven by a biological imperative to feel connected to each other, to share in the emotions of others, in what is the cornerstone of empathy and ultimately morality. And to these theories, add the insights of recent lab studies that show that we pay greater attention and remember better when an emotion like fear or disgust is stirred up, which has benefits from an evolutionary perspective as well. We really need to pay attention and remember things that pose a threat to survival.

This is by no means an exhaustive analysis, it's merely my biweekly blog. Here are some links if anyone wants to explore further. There are plenty more but these summarize some philosophical and psychological insights, as well as one scientific study

All these theories help to explain the enduring popularity of crime fiction. There are few things scarier than murder, and like gawkers drawn to an accident scene, many people are fascinated by it. What are murderers really like? Are they just like us, and "there but for the grace of god go I?" What drives people to murder? What is the nature of evil? And most importantly, perhaps, can we defeat it? And as for the ying and the yang, a crime story goes to the darkest depths in order to soar towards the light again once the world is set to right at the end of the book.

People vary in their tolerance for fear, anxiety, and distress. Some cover their eyes in the scary scenes and prefer their murders off-stage and bloodless, while at the other extreme are those who want every detail of the spilled guts and spraying blood. Some want to plumb the depths of the psychology of evil while others only want to see the bad guy get it, preferably in an adrenaline-pumping car chase or shoot-out. So another allure of crime fiction is that there is something for every taste and inclination in the exploration of evil. From the safety of our armchairs, we can stare down our particular choice of evil, walk in the footsteps of the superhero sleuth, feel the full range of horror, fear, and triumph, and ultimately cheer that the forces of good prevailed.

All to say, crime fiction not only offers valuable insights on the nature of good, evil and justice, but it also plays an important role in our mental health. I guess that's as useful a point as any.

A Thought About Research

I was in awe when I read Barbara's post on Wednesday about her working vacation. Reading about the time she spent on Georgian Bay doing research for her book reminded me of what I am never likely to do in the name of research. I love water, and I would happily have gone to Georgian Bay. But I would not have camped out. The only time I have ever slept in a tent was during basic training in the Army. I did not enjoy it. And the idea that I might wake up in a tent during a thunderstorm is an additional reason why my idea of "roughing it" is staying in a cabin. I don't like bugs. I don't like rattlesnakes. I worry about ticks.

Being reminded that I am not the outdoor type is depressing. I would love to plunge into research that takes me into the wilderness. In fact, I do field research. I go to my settings. I take photos and make notes. But since I write books and stories set in the past or the near-future, I am looking backward or imagining forward. I read other people's accounts of living through a flood or a hurricane. I watch news videos. I read geographic reports. I try to get as close as I can to the actual experience.

I have done experiments such as being locked in a car truck while tied up. I've visited a virtual reality lab.

What would happen if I challenged myself to more outdoor adventures?. Would that affect what I write about and how I write? I did go to Alaska on a cruise, and I allowed my traveling companion to talk me into white-water rafting and a helicopter ride to a glacier. . .but what I really need for the book I'm working on is to be aboard a train in a Pullman coach in 1939.

Point of No Return

This weekend my darling granddaughter, Abigail Bieker, will be graduating from Northern Arizona State University. I'll be driving down with my daughter, her mother Mary Beth, tomorrow. We are so proud of Abby!

A college degree is an enormous advantage in today's economy. What's more, it can't be erased. It's there. Forever.

During historical interviews I've been struck at how much everything has changed. Women from a preceding generation told of canning little jars of beef to take for their food. Casually running home during a semester was unheard of. Rules were strictly enforced and expulsion was a constant threat.

Curfews reigned. Dorms were either men or women. Women were forbidden to ever, I mean ever, visit a man's living quarters. Even sororities locked their doors promptly at certain times every night. Over time the rules were relaxed and dorms yielded to men's floors and women's floor, then even that has given way to shared mixed gender rooms.

Calls home, which often involved party lines, were expensive and traumatic. Imagine chats with the parents with all the neighbors listening in. There were no credit cards, cash was scarce and skimping was a way of life. Friends chipped in a quarter to provide refreshments for a party. There was little relief from constant study.

Libraries were hallowed ground. With no internet available it was essential to devour as many books as possible to do a decent job of writing papers and responding to assignments. It was study, study, study. This was the only time one would have access to this quantity of books.

There has been a sea change globally in about every area, especially in how we do research. Having lived in small towns with limited libraries my gratitude for the internet knows no bounds. I cannot fully express my appreciation. Yet work is work. The young woman slumped over her computer knows this. The internet hasn't erased the need to think, and thinking is hard! The publishing industry is now totally dependent on electronics. A couple of weeks ago I broke my little Surface computer. I bought it in 2012 so it was ancient by current standards. I have a large desktop but it won't do me a bit of good when I'm in Arizona. I need something portable to take with me. I can and do compose in longhand a lot of the time. Especially when it comes to fiction.

But longhand is no good for transmitting documents. My weekend guest post is by the fabulous Tammy Kaehler and she has a wonderful series with Poisoned Pen. I won't be able to send her post before I leave. But the hotel has a business service center.

I've reached the point of no return. It's electronics or perish.

A Cold Start

Fractured Families will be published in March and now I'm thinking about my next book. I have not decided on a title.

My mysteries begin with an image. Getting back to Kansas to do the research will be difficult to arrange because it's a long drive. The trip must be arranged before the snow flies. I want to visit one of the "Eight Wonders of Kansas"--the salt museum in Hutchinson. The tour takes vistors 650 feet underground.

There are only two other underground salt museums in the world and they are in Poland and Austria. The underground storage vaults in the Kansas Salt Museum contain millions of priceless documents from all over the world. The original negatives for Gone With the Wind and Ben Hur are stored there along with a vast number of other films.

A great deal of valuable art was stored there during World War II. It's one of the largest bedded salt deposits in the world and is still mined today. Over 500,000 ton of rock salt is removed this year.

Last week I gave a presentation to the Graham County historical society and wanted to continue to Eastern Kansas but had other obligations back here in Colorado. I can find out a lot about the Salt Mine from internet research, but it's no substitute for descending into the shaft and experiencing the icy terror of being hundreds of feet under the ground. Imagine being one of the early miners.

Today it houses an active business that offers impeccable security for data and treasures. Needless to say it offers a level of protection most of us do not need.

I'm going to start my book anyway. After all, it's the story not the background that should be center front. Whatever I write requires rewriting, but the urge to go East is becoming stronger each week. Maybe my Muse is trying to tell me something.

Knowing When to Stop

I love this week's topic. I'd like to share my thoughts about my muse. Unfortunately, I have a looming deadline. I'm trying to write a short story, and my muse is being a pain in the whatever. Not because she is ignoring my plea for inspiration. I have the opposite problem. She has been and is being entirely too helpful.

It started a few weeks ago. I woke up with the title of the story in my head. No idea where it came from. No idea what it meant. I had to go to the Internet to make sure I understood it. That was where the trouble began. My quick search turned up something that made me go "Wow! This is great!" The only problem was I knew nothing about the "this". Muse said, "No problem. Just do a little research."

I did, and then Muse handed me another idea.  A setting that would work. A closed circle of suspects. The sleuth? "Would I let you down?" Muse asked. "Here she is." Except I knew nothing about my sleuth's occupation. Nothing. Nada. I pointed that out to Muse. She said, "No problem. It's a short story. Do a little research."

Okay. I know how to do research. Off to the university library. Books -- even a couple requested from storage. A couple of dissertations. Some articles. Good. This was working. Good to go.

That was when Muse said, "But you know your problem with descriptions. I always work better when you've actually seen what you're trying to describe." That made sense. A road trip on a lovely summer day. Invite friend to come along. Grab camera and go. Come back with photos -- and a couple of more books.

Open small book and make big discovery.

Days passing. Clock ticking. I point this out to Muse. She says, "Just read this. It might be useful. You know I'm always more helpful when you have lots of information." I say, "I have enough information to write a book." Muse says, "Yes, you do. But we'll get to that after we're done with your story. Keep reading."

Last night, I'd had enough. I said, "This is ridiculous. I've got to get some words down on paper." Muse said, "You've been writing the whole thing in your head. You have all the scenes. You have motives and killer." I said, "But I still need to write. Have you looked at the calendar?" Muse said, "Go to bed. We'll talk about it in the morning."

This morning Muse said, "You have to eat lunch anyway. And I know exactly where we should go. Then you'll have all afternoon to write."

Muse and I are getting ready to go out to lunch. Lunch in a diner that I didn't even know existed before I started all that research Muse insisted I do. There are some pictures on the wall that Muse thinks I should see.

After that, I'm going to write because I am running out of time. No more hanging out with Muse. Sit down. Put hands on keyboard and write.

Say what?

I'm at the Western Writers of American convention in Cheyenne Wyoming and heard an interesting panel this morning on dealing with vernacular.

It started me thinking about dialog and what is politically correct and what is a hot potato. But another more important issue to mystery writers is related to regional usage. Since most of what I write is set in Kansas I'm usually on pretty firm ground. But not always.

My husband and I both grew up in Anderson County Kansas. We moved to Western Kansas when we were married. I was surprised at the difference in what people in opposite sides of the state called things.

In fact, I once took a class in linguistics in which the professor said there was a man so skilled at detecting variations in usage that he could tell within 50 miles where a person was born and where they moved to later in life.

Determining verbal accuracy in dialogue can be quite frustrating:
       Do you want a coke or a can of pop?
       Do you make bread or white bread or light bread?
       Is your pickup stuck in the ditch, the bar-ditch, or the barrow ditch?
       Do you reach for a tea towel or a domestic?
       Are you afraid of thunderstorms or lightning storms?
       Is that river the Arkansas (as in the state--Ar-kan-saw) or the Ar-KANSAS?
       Do the men go off somewhere or do the menfolks?

Occasionally usage can even be a factor in plotting. Certainly it has been a clue contained in ransom notes and threats.

I'm not a hard and fast advocate of "writing what you know" but when it comes to the choice of words native to a region it's a very good idea to plan a research trip to the area. Go with a notebook and pay attention when people "talk funny."